


Sherene Ficlet

by lucifers_left_earlobe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abortion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_left_earlobe/pseuds/lucifers_left_earlobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request for Sherlock finding out about Irene's pregnancy after a one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherene Ficlet

Sherlock had known meeting _the_ woman in that high-end hotel room would be a mistake. He’d known even as John bartered him, asking him where he was going and when he was going to return- there was a footie game on. He had known it as he knocked on the door, three quick raps before a leather gloved hand pulled him in. And he’d known it when the woman was fully seated atop him, setting a rapid rhythm for him to time his thrusts with.

Several weeks later, she rang him in the morning, not bothering with a greeting and skipping straight to an address for them to meet. Sherlock had considered it momentarily, finding that the benefits outweighed the negatives of meeting her; general human behavioral instinct dictates that one may feel accustomed to their sexual partners for a period of time usually within a week of copulation. So, he takes a cab to a posh restaurant near Hyde and waits for her.

Minutes pass, and after a half hour Sherlock contemplates leaving the restaurant and heading back to his flat when she shows up. He supposes she’s beautiful, or at least would be to the lame man’s eye. She’s dressed in a form-fitting blue dress with a pair of dust stained black pumps. She walks to him with a determined expression on her face, looking like she had made a rather difficult decision.

He stands as she approaches, smoothing out his slightly wrinkled jacket as he does so. She sits and he follows suit, observing as she waves over a waiter.

“Mr. Holmes, I wish I could’ve met you with more positive news,” she says, her tone light and suspicious. Like always, she’s relatively difficult to read. However, he detects the chinks in her armor. Her dark hair is slightly mussed, as if haphazardly pinned up. There are large, albeit well concealed, bags under her eyes, indicative of many sleepless nights. She also looks to have gained some weight; not much, though, just enough to add some roundness to her jaw.

“As do I, Ms. Adler. Tell me, when did you find out about the baby?” He stares at her, catching the little twitch in her lip. Her cover up is a very out of character giggle and plastering a too white and too big smile onto her face. The waiter arrives with crumpets and tomato soup and she plucks one up immediately, confirming his suspicions of the parasite contained within the small woman.

“Not one to beat around the bush, as always. You truly do not surprise, Sherlock.” She coats it in a healthy layer of soup, swallows a bite and sets the food back onto a little plate. “I’ve confirmed it last week. It’s about a month old.” Glancing down at her wristwatch, she avoids his gaze for a few moments.

Still, he could not figure out why she’d wanted to tell him about it. Yes, they were ‘friends’ if one could call them that, but there was no precedent for her summoning him. He’s about to ask her why him when his mouth snaps shut with the realization. How could he have been so stupid?

“You and I, we engaged in _those_ activities about a month ago,” Sherlock states, cringing slightly at his idiocy and his poor choice of words. They hadn’t been unsafe, he knew that much. The likelihood of impregnating the woman was under two percent, then again, neither of them we’re really ninety-eight percent kind of people. “Is it...?”

“Yes, Sherlock. That’s what it looks like.” Her eyes meet his, lightning meeting the ocean, and she glares at him. She’s angry. He tries to find the words to say, but he’s stumped yet again by Adler. He leans back into the wooden chair and folds his hands over his crossed legs. Perhaps he should offer her compensation? Or ask if she’s considering abortion. He’s running through a string of possible reactions on her part when she reaches over the table to pat his cheek.

“You shouldn’t brood like that, dear. You may stop some poor girl’s heart.” She retracts her arm and stares at the tablecloth as she answers the question he’d never asked. “I’m going to abort it, Sherlock. That’s what I came here to tell you.”

Sherlock stares at his folded hands and registers her decision. Her mind is made up and it’s not his place to convince her otherwise. He is not well suited to being a father, that’s more of John’s area. Adler would likely sacrifice it for her own protection. It’s the best option.

“Yes, well, it would be more practical that way,” he mutters, still considering the news. His second time with the woman, with _any_ woman, and they’d managed to create a burden. It’s like a punch line to a joke; a dominatrix and a sociopath and a baby...

“Good to see you agree,” she answers. She pulls a tube out of her purse and lifts it to her lips to reapply her rouge lipstick. After she returns it to the bag, she stands, brushing crumbs off of her legs. She meets his eyes to address him. “You’ll have to excuse me; there are things I have to do.” She gives him a nod and strides out of the restaurant, her hips swinging in tandem with her steps.

Sherlock watches the door for a moment after she’s departed his presence. Then he leaves some money on the table and walks out, bracing himself behind his upturned collar. He hails a cabbie and heads back to 221B and picks up his violin from where he’d left it earlier in the morning, playing until the London sky is ablaze with orange from the midnight lights.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock (and my first m/f) related fic, so I'm really sorry if any of the characters are done horrendously and if what I've written is inaccurate.


End file.
